


Never Not Broken

by emmykay



Category: Naruto
Genre: Comfort, F/M, Hurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-08
Updated: 2011-07-08
Packaged: 2017-10-23 22:16:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/255633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmykay/pseuds/emmykay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She had been broken her whole life. She had the misfortune to belong to a clan that could see the full extent of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Not Broken

**Author's Note:**

> Claimer/Author: This story is written by and belongs to Emmy Kay.
> 
> Disclaimer: Naruto and all affiliated characters belong to Kishimoto Masashi. This story is written without permission and for personal/fan/nonprofit entertainment purposes only.
> 
> Note: A companion piece to "A Boo-boo" but not necessarily in the same universe.

Right. A fist rose, crashed against the upright log with a painful crack across the knuckles that went straight up the arm to the shoulder, and then was retracted back to her side. Left. Another fist burst forward and pounded the log and was snapped back to her side.

The air had been heavy and unpleasantly humid today, only making the task more unpleasant. Summer could be like that in Konoha. Despite that, she had not removed her coat on her flight to the training fields.

Right. She was waiting for that moment when the pain starts to subside, the nerves giving up against the constant barrage, the endorphins beginning to pump into her brain. Left.

It had been seen as her fault: this inability to demand the respect due to her from Hanabi. They had had a serious, but not critical, disagreement. Neither was particularly right. It was expected, (likely rewarded) that she punish Hanabi for the dissent and retrieve respect for her absolute authority. Nothing Hinata had seen in her 20 years of life, 8 as a kunoichi, would have risen to require that level of retaliation, that severity of correction.

That Hinata was incapable of doing such was seen as a serious lack. Her father looked deep into her being with those cold white-on-white all-seeing eyes, finding everything he needed to know about her deficiencies. As if her existence were an insult to the Hyuuga concept of perfection and family discipline.

Right. Left.

She had run away, unable to bear being in the house any longer. And found herself at the training grounds. This was both retreat and punishment - away from one source of pain towards another. But at least she could manage this one - make it her own, try to improve, get stronger, get faster. But it never seemed enough. Even as she knew herself to gain speed and strength - there was always more to do - the edges of perfection seemed to move ever beyond her reach.

Right. Left. She breathed harshly through her nose with the rhythm of the punches. Right. Left.

She had done this long enough to know that it wasn't really the hitting that hurt. It was the stopping. When the feeling began to return to the extremities - that's when you had to watch out for the awfully seductive thoughts about never training again as howl-inducing pain rattled the bones on out to the flailed skin. Because that's when you realize exactly how badly you've just damaged yourself.

But that was acceptable. Hinata had never felt whole anyway. She had been broken her whole life. And she had the misfortune to belong to a clan that could see the full extent of it.

Right. Left.

A distant burst of lightning and a crack of thunder were the only warnings. Then a summer thunderstorm dropped onto the grounds; the clouds tore open and the rains poured out, like water out of a bucket.

Being caught out in the rain was common enough, but it startled her out of her determined stance. She looked about - seeking shelter out in the open expanse of the training grounds.

Gah. This was ridiculous.

There was no shelter - only trees, a good run away, and weren't you not supposed to go near trees in a thunder storm? There was so much rain, so hard and so driven - it almost seemed futile to go anywhere. She wouldn't get too cold - the temperature of the air wasn't very different from that of the rain.

It was so futile - she might as well get wet.

She shook her head, the water beating down on her hair, the wind driving the rain under her coat, against her skin. She was wet. She was sweaty. She was exhausted. She hurt, so much, everywhere.

A flash of lightning illuminated the air nearby, throwing everything vertical into high relief. On its heels, thunder rolled, the low sound more like a physical sensation of pressure against her body than something she could hear with her ears.

Closing her eyes, she dropped onto the ground, her knees in the mud, her arms draped around the wood like a lover. She leaned her forehead against the log's rough surface, round wet drops running down her face, dripping from her lips like kisses. She welcomed the chaos of the wet: strands of her hair sticking to her forehead, her cheeks, her neck; the grit of training digging into her skin. She was a mess. She was broken. She would never not be broken. She screamed with fear, with release, with fury and with joy, knowing she would never be heard, not out here.

"Hinata!" came the cry across the rain.

Startled, she lifted her head, turning and blinking furiously to clear the water out of her eyes. A pair of sandals splashed across from the training fields further down.

She scrabbled onto her feet, hurridly running a wet sleeve over her face. It did little good.

"Are you hurt?" A hand presented itself to her.

Hinata shook her head, embarrassed that anyone should see her like this - wet, dirty, uncontrolled. She cleared her throat, but defaulted to yet another brief head shake.

"What're you doing out here?" Naruto looked at her closely, his eyes intent, his brows creased in concern as rain poured off his hair.

"Training?"

"When I heard you yell - I saw you fall - I thought - the lightning -"

She could feel the heat of embarrassment rising up over her face. "I was - um - enjoying the rain?"

He looked at her, disbelieving. "C'mon, Hinata. Let's go back to the village."

As he grabbed her hand, she hissed in sudden pain and tried to retreat.

He held on and looked down at the ugly mess of her hands - bloody, swollen, unable to make a tight fist or open fully. Rain mixed with the blood, dark pink swirls trapped in drops falling onto the mud. "I'll bet Tsunade-baachan will have something that'll help."

"No, I'm all right," she demurred, pulling away, embarrassed and sorry about what he might have seen.

Gently, he grasped her about the wrist. "There's training, Hinata, and then there's hurting. C'mon."

"Naruto – no – I - " Her eyes were enormous, pleading.

"Hinata." He looked concerned, his eyes still trying to capture hers to take a quick study of her true state. "Please."

"But I need to stay here. I need to be stronger - " she faltered, unable to express everything within her.

"Your hands might be broken." He still held onto her, overlooking the tremors that had begun to overtake her arm. "You didn't use chakra?"

She shook her head, her lips trembling. "Better - better to toughen up."

"Hinata - it's better to get it treated. I've broken lots of things and it always hurts like hell. Besides," he said, "You break something, it heals, and _then_ it becomes tougher." He grinned at her, a flash of white cock-certitude. "Invincibility doesn't happen all at once, you know. Not even for me."

She smiled shakily back, allowing him to pull her along. Back to the village, back to get healed, back to face whatever she had been running from.

Yes, she might be broken, she might be imperfect, eternally so, but someday, she thought, someday, she would be like him. She would be invincible. And in her brokenness, she realized she was free.

**Author's Note:**

> Thirty kisses challenge: 16. invincible; unrivaled
> 
> Several ideas went into this little piece - Colored Ink's, "Well, I guess it's better than thinking that the storm moved on without ever touching us," and Shakespeare's "For saints have hands that pilgrims hands do touch, And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss." (I think about this line a lot when I write Naruto/Hinata.)
> 
> And I also was inspired by an article about Akhilandeshvari, whose name translates to "never not broken goddess." She "derives her power from being broken: in flux, pulling herself apart, living in different, constant selves at the same time, from never becoming a whole that has limitations...we can keep on breaking apart and putting ourselves together again as many times as we need to. We are already "never not broken." We were never a consistent, limited whole. In our brokenness, we are unlimited. And that means we are amazing." from elephantjournal, June 2011.


End file.
